


Not Alone

by j_quadrifrons



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Martin Pining (in the coda), Fluff, Friendship, Gen, HugJonSims2k19, Hugs, Jonathan Sims Gets Something Nice, Mutual Support, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_quadrifrons/pseuds/j_quadrifrons
Summary: After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised that my #HugJonSims2k19 fic was only the beginning of something longer! Original post [here](https://backofthebookshelf.tumblr.com/post/184557665551/somuchbetterthanthat-protectmartinblackwood).

Daisy stands too close, after the coffin. Jon isn't sure if it's that she wants to make sure they're real, or that she's forgotten what personal space is after spending eight months Forever Deep Below Creation, or if she wants the comfort of physical contact but is afraid of appearing weak. He's seen Basira jump when she suddenly finds Daisy inches from her side, but it's not really possible to surprise Jon any more. For once, he's grateful; it means he, at least, doesn't make Daisy flinch.

The way she watches him, though. It isn't like it was before, the predatory stare of a hunter deciding if what it's looking at is prey, but it isn't like the Beholding, either. Daisy watches him like she's trying disassemble him for parts, sort through the pieces and take out -- what? The parts that make him a monster? There wouldn't be enough left to reassemble, Jon thinks wryly, tries to make it a joke so it stings a little less.

It's a hot spring day, enough so that it's warm even in the Archives, and Melanie has vanished and Basira is off investigating something she still won't share, so Daisy is leaning against the wall in Jon's office, watching him sort through statements. Ever since Basira brought it up he can't bring himself to just sit and listen for them, can't stop thinking about what it must look like, so instead he opens a box or a drawer and sorts through the files one at a time. In addition to looking less inhuman, it's soothing, the slide of paper through his hands, even if he's sure it's only contributing to the overall disaster that passes for the Archive's organizational system. (He offers a brief mental apology to Gertrude.)

"You're sweating," Daisy observes from her corner. 

Jon frowns at her. "What?"

"In that cardigan." She nods at it, and it's true, it's much too warm in here for the layers he's got on. But he hadn't noticed, and also he - well, the thought of taking it off seems terrible. He doesn't want to be that exposed. He likes the weight of it.

"It's comfortable," he mumbles, and Daisy says, "huh."

He's finished going through the box of files - nothing called to him from this batch - and is settling the lid back on it when Daisy says, "Come here."

"W-what? Why?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "Come. Over. Here."

He's trusting people now, so he does, standing awkwardly in front of her with his arms at his sides, fingers curled loosely in his palms. He, too, stands a little too close now, he realizes. Just with Daisy, or with everyone? He doesn't think he's seen enough other people to know. (Not with Melanie, surely, he has that much of a self-preservation instinct left.)

And then Daisy is pushing herself up off the wall, wrapping thin arms around his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. Jon stiffens for a moment with the shock and the unfamiliarity of it but it seems he does, in fact, trust Daisy now. She holds on, and the tension falls out of his back and shoulders, and he wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her shoulder. She might still be struggling to build up her strength, but she holds him up like it's no effort at all. 

If a few tears leak out of the corner of his eyes, neither of them mention it.

Jon's not sure how long it's been when Daisy loosens her grip at last, pats him on the shoulder as he lets go and straightens up with a sigh. "Better?" she asks.

"I - yes," he says. Daisy nods, satisfied, and leans back on the wall again.

He takes the cardigan off before he pulls the next box down from the shelves.

* * *

Basira storms out of Jon's office, closing the door behind her harder than she has to, and Daisy frowns. It isn't right. True, Basira's impatient with everyone these days, but she used to _like_ Jon. Used to talk about him so much, back when he was just a murder suspect, that Daisy actually got a little jealous. (True, too, that Basira doesn't even seem to like Daisy right now, but that's a problem for another time.) But now this. She doesn't like it.

So the next time she's sitting in Jon's office, stretching out the muscles of her still-shaky legs against the corner of his desk, she waits until he's done rambling into the tape recorder about the lack of followup and then says, "Basira's good at that stuff. You should ask her."

Jon makes a choked noise. "I'm not sure she'd appreciate that." 

She shrugs, rolling her shoulders against the tension they always carry now. "You could try." 

"Hmm." It's the skeptical noise he makes when he doesn't want to say whatever nasty thing he would have said before, and she appreciates it. 

Daisy stays out of it after that. She knows Basira, and she knows Jon, and prodding at either of them will only make things worse. She quietly says nothing when one of them mentions the other. Nods or hums a response when it's needed. Jon looks at her with increasing desperation, as if he knows what she's trying to do and can't find his way out of it. (Story of his life, apparently. Daisy's not going to help him out of this one.) 

Basira is harder to read. Always has been, but now she doesn't even make an effort to be comprehensible, and Daisy winces to know how much she still relies on her, how much she always did. But she stops listening when Basira complains about Jon and changes the subject when she can. And one day she walks past Jon's office with a fresh cup of tea and he and Basira are sitting side by side, heads bent over the desk, sorting through a file of newspaper clippings.

Daisy positions herself out of view of the office, the old instincts leading her to just the right spot. There's no shouting, no harsh sarcasm. It's possible, just barely possible, that they're actually working together for once. It feels good. Daisy leans against the wall, sipping her tea, basking in the quiet sound of their voices.

After a little while there's the scrape of a chair against the floor and Basira appears in the doorway. Daisy pulls back a little further behind a shelf, although she's sure she can't be seen. Basira stops herself, just outside the office, turns. "Jon," she says, and waits. Daisy pictures Jon looking up in confusion, the way he always does when his train of thought's interrupted, as if when he's concentrating the rest of the world stops existing. 

"I'm not disappointed you're still alive," Basira says.

There's a long pause. 

"Thank you," Jon says, hoarse and quiet. 

Basira nods and heads for the Archives entrance. Daisy smiles into her tea.

* * *

Daisy looks stiff and uncomfortable. That's nothing new anymore, but today seems particularly bad. Even without looking, Jon can see her shifting in her chair, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly, bouncing a knee until she winces and stops. 

"Everything all right?" he asks lightly when he gets up to make a cup of tea, more an excuse to have noticed than anything he really wants. 

"Fine." It's almost the old snarl, which isn't right at all. 

Jon watches the tea brewing and considers. He's not good with people, not even when he was one, but it's just the two of them alone in the Archives so often any more. And Daisy has been -- well, kind. More than he deserves. And he knows very well that defensive reaction, that instinct to push away someone's concern before they can see how badly you're hurt. It twists in his gut, a horrible mess of guilt and regret and longing. He tries not to think about how badly he ruined trying to talk to Melanie.

"How's the physical therapy going?" he asks, painfully aware that he hasn't achieved a casual tone at all, when he sits back down. 

She straightens her spine, flinging her shoulders back so firmly he can hear the thud as her spine impacts the wooden chair. Then she slumps a little. "Terrible," she mutters.

Jon notices the impulse to hide his sympathetic grimace, suppresses it. "I don't know that I ever did any of the exercises they sent me home with, after Prentiss's attack," he admits. "It was miserable and I couldn't see the point. I still -- well." He pauses, thinks. "I used to have a limp." Dammit, self-pity was not what he had been aiming for.

Daisy snorts and looks him over. "Why am I not surprised," she says, but she's smiling, and Jon smiles back. Not a total disaster after all. She shifts in her chair again, still uncomfortable. 

He swallows hard. He's never been any good at sympathy, but he knows at least a shadow of her pain, and really it's the least he can do. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

For a second she really does look like she'll rip his throat out the way she'd once threatened to do. Daisy may hate the Hunt but she hates being weak almost as much, and he can't imagine what it must be like to fall so far so quickly. Going in the other direction has been no picnic but at least he's _more_ capable of taking care of himself than he used to be. At least he doesn't need someone to care about a monster. But her face softens as quickly as that flash of anger came on, and her shoulders drop like his question has lifted a weight from them. 

"I could use someone to give me a counterweight. All my old stuff is too much right now." She doesn't meet his eyes when she says it, her voice too casual by far, and Jon has no idea what she actually needs him to do, but he doesn't hesitate to agree. 

Daisy leverages herself up out of the chair and nods at him to come along. Jon blinks in surprise. "What, now?" 

"Yeah," she grins at him, looking genuinely pleased, and Jon finds himself smiling back, happy to see her relaxed again. "Archers is on in ten minutes."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Nope." Daisy waits for him to stand before she heads for the door. "Come on, I'll catch you up."

* * *

It isn't that she needs looking after, it's just that quiet is an awful lot to bear, and the Archives are very quiet these days. Daisy knows she's told this to everyone and they believe her. She's even pretty sure they don't look down on her for it. She still has to remind herself most days. So when Basira is out following up on whatever leads she has, and Melanie has gone to therapy (which probably doesn't take all day but if she wants to take the excuse to get some fresh air Daisy really can't blame her), she sits in Jon's office and watches him work.

Of course it doesn't bother him at all, being watched. Daisy supposes that with everything else watching him all the time one more pair of eyes doesn't make much difference at all. It doesn't bother her either, which she thinks is maybe wrong. Maybe she should feel strange about watching someone do mostly nothing for hours at a time. Maybe it's a hunter's instinct that she should be trying to suppress. But it doesn't feel predatory as much as it feels... protective. If she's watching, she knows he isn't doing something suicidally stupid. 

Probably. Because while he's sat at his desk surrounded by papers, Jon is also not looking great. He's got his head propped up on one hand, and he stares at one page for too long, not in a spooky way but because his eyes keep drifting closed. Daisy tries to remember the last time she saw Jon anywhere other than in his office. 

It's not really any of her business. She knows why he doesn't sleep, between the work that needs doing and the nightmares that aren't only nightmares. She knows he thinks he ought to be able to do without it by now, that he's determined to get some benefit out of the loss of his humanity, even though it's clear this isn't something he can manage just yet. It's none of her business, and anyway, he'd only insist that he's fine. 

Jon's head slips down on his hand a little and he pulls himself up with a jerk, cracking his spine and muttering under his breath. Daisy's heart tugs sympathetically in her chest and she makes a decision.

"Jon?" she says softly, and winces a little at how vulnerable it sounds. It does the job though; he looks up, all that piercing attention focused on her for a terrifying moment before he reels it in to something more human. She grits her teeth, partly to sell it, partly because it really is impossible to ask. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course," he says without hesitation. 

"I can't." Daisy takes a deep breath. She's telling the truth, she realizes as she says it, this isn't just for his benefit. "I'm exhausted, but I can't - it's too empty, by myself, I can't sleep. Would you. Come and sit with me. While." She gestures helplessly. "I just need a nap."

Jon blinks, and she can't tell if he's too tired to process or he's just surprised by the question. Fair enough either way, honestly. Daisy breathes and does not think about how much she doesn't want him to say no. But after only a moment he says, "Right. Right, yes, of course, let me just -" He starts gathering up some of the papers he's been staring at for the past two hours.

"Just for a few minutes," Daisy says, a little desperately. Jon's hands still. 

"All right," he says again, quietly.

The cot in Document Storage where Daisy and Basira usually sleep is only technically big enough for two people, but they've made do. It's piled high with blankets to keep out the chill of the climate control, and most of the time that's fine, although some days Daisy just piles them all into a nest that she sleeps on top of because the pressure of anything at all pushing down on her is too much. Today, though, she peels them back, kicks off her shoes, and stretches out. She presses her back against the wall, leaving plenty of room. 

Jon is uncomfortable because he's always uncomfortable with anything that looks like plain human comfort, but he sits down on the edge of the cot. He's clearly trying to perch, to give her as much space as possible, but the physics of the thing don't work like that and he winds up with his hip resting against her side. To Daisy's surprise, he reaches out and takes her hand. Their fingers lace together same as they did in the coffin but the memory is a good one, companionship after endless solitude. She holds on tight.

It isn't long before Jon's shoulders are slumping, his head nodding, and Daisy tugs a little at his hand. "C'mon," she says sleepily, and he doesn't resist, settling into the empty space with barely a mutter of objection. He's bonier than Basira, pressed up against her side, but it's all right. He's still holding her hand when his breathing steadies out and Daisy watches him tumble into sleep at last. She smiles, pleased with herself, and tucks her head against his shoulder before she follows.


	2. Coda

*click* *whirrr*

[AUDIBLE SIGH]

MARTIN: Really?

MARTIN: Look, yeah, I know, all right? Peter complains about gossip but he's worse than anyone, so I know, it's fine.

MARTIN: I'm happy for him, really, he should have friends. And Daisy's -- nice, I guess, now. Which is weird, she definitely tried to kill him at least once, but almost getting killed by messed up supernatural things will change anyone I guess, they might as well change someone for the better for once.

[SOUNDS OF FURIOUS TYPING]

MARTIN: I just don't see why they have to take a nap in the bed. In the cot. Where I used to. [EXPLOSIVE SIGH] Yeah, I know everyone lives here now, because nobody _believes_ that I'm actually doing anything to keep them safe, but Christ it's two in the afternoon, it's not like...

[MOUSE CLICKING, MORE TYPING]

MARTIN: It's good he's getting some rest. I don't think he sleeps enough. 

[SILENCE, SOUND OF TAPE WHIRRING]

MARTIN: Still. In my BED. 

*click*

**Author's Note:**

> Please come yell about TMA with me, I have too many feelings  
> [@j_quadrifrons](https://twitter.com/j_quadrifrons), [backofthebookshelf](https://backofthebookshelf.tumblr.com)


End file.
